Where I want to be…

Though I miss you all the time–each and every day in some small way–there comes, with this separation, waves of missing you. One of those waves broke over me last night.

I was sitting here at my desk, after rushing you off the phone to fight yet another figurative fire, when the reality of what I live without every day hit me. At first, I had to work not to cry. I threw myself into finishing my project, into getting ready for bed, and then, within minutes I was asleep. But my dreams were no safe haven.

I dreamed of you last night. I dreamed of the simplest thing–hugging, holding on to you. And yet, as I fought to wake up this morning, and I reached out and found your side of the bed empty–again– I knew I would not be holding you for months to come.

What makes the waves even worse is the loneliness that follows–not because you aren’t here, but because there is no one who can understand, save military wives, the agony. I don’t know many military wives… not personally. The wives I do know have their husbands home for dinner… I have a phone call that is usually interrupted by loud coworkers or bad connections.

I know that this wave will pass, and in a few days, I will be strong again. I will muster the courage to go to bed alone again, to celebrate our anniversary with a history exam and glass of wine, to wait for just a little while longer. In a few days, I will stand, in spirit, with the other hundreds of thousands of wives waiting patiently for their worlds to begin again, to return from that God-forsaken desert. In a few days…

Until then, I will stop every couple of hours to relive the few precious moments we’ve spent together. Until then, I will allow this wave of longing to sweep me away, to carry me for as long as it can, for the one thing I’ve learned over the last few years is that missing you this way brings me so much closer to you–and right now, that’s exactly where I want to be.